


Stranglehold

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-09
Updated: 2008-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean's worst fears are being played on. How will he get out of this one?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** For Creed on her birthday. I love you, you big jerk! Thanks to siluria for the beta!

Dean was pacing the length of the motel room, his gaze flicking to his brother from time to time as Sam frantically typed on his laptop. He couldn't let himself sit still, had to keep moving... had to keep himself preoccupied or else he'd lose it all together. Running a shaking hand back through his hair, Dean closed his eyes for a moment. 

 

*Poor, baby.* 

 

Dean groaned, opening his eyes back up and clenching his fists. 

 

"Is it back?" Sam asked, looking up from his laptop, fingers freezing over the keys. 

 

Dean didn't have the strength for a witty comeback, so he just nodded his head and continued with the pacing. 

 

"I'm working as fast as I can, Dean." 

 

"I know, Sam. I know," Dean answered, he finished his stride to the door and turned around. It was there, sitting on the bed next to his brother. 

 

The form didn't matter so much, it showed up sometimes as a woman other times as a man. What did matter was that the thing's hands were sliding over Sam's shoulders, running up and through his little brother's hair as it whispered. *He's so pretty, Dean. I can't believe you've held out so long on touching him the way you really want to.* The image flickered and suddenly it was standing right before Dean, taking the shape of his brother this time. *Why don't you take what's yours? He wants it, too. Wants to taste you, make you moan, feel you pressed up against him all hot and hard and wanting.* 

 

Dean shivered as the fake image of his brother reached out and skated a finger along his jaw. It wasn't Sam but his body responded anyway, heat pooling in his gut, making his heart rate jump up. "Just...stop." 

 

Fake Sam smiled and leaned in close, lips just a scant inch from Dean's own. *I think you don't want me to. I think you'd be just as satisfied if I kissed you in this form as you would be if it really was Sam. You can have him. He's sitting right there, watching you talk to thin air.* Fake Sam stepped back and Dean's gaze rested on his Sammy. Eyes wide and pleading for Dean to do something, say something about what was going on. 

 

*He'd be a wonderful fuck, don't you think so, Dean?* It whispered along his skin, forced his body to break out into a sweat. 

 

"Dean? What's it saying?" Sam stood up, pushing the laptop into the center of the bed. Long legs carried him quickly over to his brother. He reached his hand out and laid it on Dean's shoulder. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what it's saying." 

 

And it was the contact that did it, that one quick moment of affection and worry that seemed to break Dean's thoughts away from sex and lust. He wrenched himself backwards, hand flailing behind him as he sought for the door handle. "I gotta take a walk," he mumbled, forcing the conflicting emotions down and away as he yanked the door open. 

 

Sam moved quickly, grasping Dean's wrist in one large hand. "Not a good idea, Dean. We don't know what it wants from you yet." 

 

Dean's mind screamed at him as flesh touched flesh for just a moment. He yanked his hand back and gave Sam a look filled with pain and desperation. "You don't want to know, Sammy." 

 

The door clicked softly closed. 

 

*********** 

24 hours previous.... 

 

"Man, I HATE witches!" Dean threw the shotgun into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. He was covered in some kind of strange dust. He shook his head, letting the particles of the unknown agent fly out and around him. Sam took a step back and put a hand over his face, effectively blocking off the sneeze. 

 

"What the hell is that stuff?" Sam took a step closer now and reached out to run a finger along the grime on Dean's leather jacket. 

 

"You're asking me? All I know is that I'm covered in it... and it better come out of the jacket, too." Dean pulled the jacket off and started beating at it with his hands, shaking loose the concoction that was covering it. It made his eyes water and his nose clog up. 

 

"Well, at least we took care of that lower level demon she was using," Sam pointed out, snaking the keys from Dean's hand to reopen the trunk. He pulled out a blanket that had seen its share of good days long ago and handed it over to his brother. 

 

Dean took it and started around for the driver's side door. "Yeah well, using it as an attack dog was pretty damn stupid. She should have realized in the end it was going to turn on her." 

 

"Yeah well, she was more interested in getting wealth and fame than about her own mortality." Sam shoved one of the backpacks into the back seat of the car. "Dean? You doing all right, man? You're not looking so hot at the moment." 

 

Fact of the matter was, Dean did feel pretty shitty. His whole body was hurting and he was beginning to feel as if his body was slowly turning into a block of ice. He put a hand out to steady himself against the side of the car, head starting to throb in time with his heartbeat. He tugged the blanket tighter around him, vision drifting in and out. "Hey, Sammy... think you'd better drive after all." 

 

That was all it took. Dean Winchester never admitted to feeling sick. The minute the words left his mouth Sam was scrambling around the front of the car to wrap a protective arm around Dean's middle, steering him back over to the passenger's side. What was even stranger was how Dean didn't protest it, actually leaned into Sam. Not a single complaint as Sam carefully put him inside and shut the door. 

 

Slipping quickly into the driver's seat, Sam reached under the blankets to grab at the keys in Dean's jacket pocket. Dean didn't even open his eyes, just laid there with his head against the seat breathing long deep breaths. The Impala started with a growl, tires digging deep into the soft ground before lurching forward into the black of the night. Sam cut his gaze to Dean's form again, just waiting for the bitch session to start. When it never came, Sam knew they were really in some deep shit. 

 

************* 

 

When Dean woke, he was staring up at the motel ceiling they'd been occupying for the last week in Darlington, North Dakota. He recognized the orange stain on the ceiling from god only knew what. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom and he grimaced, realizing he needed to get one himself. He started to shift onto his side and stopped abruptly when he noticed the girl sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. He realized with slow dawning apprehension that he was covered in nothing but a sheet. 

 

Sure, Dean was a ladies man. He'd fucked around with plenty of women in the past, not to mention a few men if all truths be told. But it was one thing to pick them up and bring them back... another altogether to find one watching you in your bed sans clothing and unconscious. 

 

"How are you feeling, Dean?" 

 

He gave his head a light shake. "Sam get me a nursemaid?" 

 

The girl smiled, standing up and moving to sit next to him on the bed. "Something like that." 

 

It wasn't until she reached out and laid a hand on his forehead that Dean realized exactly how wrong this whole situation was. 

 

First off, the girl's hand was ice cold, skin a bit too pale and almost...transparent. Looking down at her arm he could see the veins easily right beneath the skin, almost pulsing. With a bit of trepidation, he looked up and found her eyes watching him, flickering many different colors, as her smile grew wider. "What's the matter, darling? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

 

Dean jerked his hand back, reaching under the pillow for his silver knife. "You're no ghost." 

 

"No, not a ghost. And that silver blade of yours won't hurt me one bit, darling. Not at all." 

 

Dean tried regardless, the blade slid in and slid out with no resistance at all. "Shall I make gasping noises or curl up over your arm to make you feel like you've accomplished something?" 

 

"You can't be here! The salt, the symbols..." 

 

"Are completely useless when I'm tied to you via curse and blood, darling." She grinned at him, teeth looking much sharper than they had before. "What normally would keep a demon out is rendered useless. See page 12 column 2 paragraph 5b of the Weekly Demon Report." Dean frowned, forehead wrinkling and face paling just a bit more. "Now don't fret, my sweet thing. We're going to have so much fun together, you and I. Years and years of me driving you slowly mad." She reached her hand out again, fingernails deep blood red and pointed, dragging them down the side of his face. "I'll get to know the real Dean Winchester through and through." 

 

********* 

 

"I don't see how something like that would even be possible, Dean." Sam shook his head and regarded his older brother with worried eyes. 

 

"Stop looking at me like that," Dean shouted, angrily poking a finger at Sam's chest. 

 

"Like what, man?" 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the bed. "Like I'm freakin' crazy." He paced over to the window, looking out at the snow that was falling from a slate gray sky. A cold gust of air against him had him spinning around, looking for the girl to suddenly be standing there. It was nothing, just a gust of wind sneaking in through the old window of their motel room. 

 

"You've been out of it for awhile, Dean. You were running a fever and were talking all kinds of crazy stuff when I got you in here." 

 

"This was no fever dream, Sammy." 

 

"Demon's can't cross over those kind of symbols, man. And the salt..." 

 

Flinging himself down onto the other double bed, Dean let out a huff of air. "It had an explanation for it, something about curses and blood..." 

 

Sam jumped off the other bed and grabbed for his laptop. "You didn't feel the need to tell me that like, oh... fifteen minutes ago?" 

 

Dean grumbled and closed his eyes, letting some of the anger drain away. "You were too busy trying to convince me I was crazy." 

 

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, staring at nothing but the back of his eyelids and the reassuring sound of Sam's fingers clicking away on the keys of the laptop. He was so used to that sound. He'd been lulled to sleep by it many times and woken up to it. When Sam was determined to find the information they needed, the typing never seemed to stop. Dean never realized how comforting it was until that moment. 

 

He opened his eyes to find her there, hovering over him and smiling. He tried to move but couldn't, realizing fast that his body was useless to him. The edges of his vision were hazy and he hastily figured out he was dreaming. 

 

"Quick on the uptake, Dean, a little too quick sometimes." She leaned forward and laid a kiss on his forehead, felt him shiver beneath her in revulsion. "It's okay, darling. I just wanted a bit of time to check out your scrumptious brother over there. Wish that my mistress had cursed me to the both of you. The fun I could have..." 

 

"You leave him alone, you hear me?" Dean struggled, willing his body to move. It was his dream; he should be able to control it. 

 

"Your dream, baby, but my rules." She stood up and cocked her hip, resting her hands on her waist. "Nothing you can do to stop me either." She walked over to where Sam sat typing away. Her hands reached out lay on his shoulders, running them gently down to his elbows, turning her head to smile easily at Dean on the bed. "Such a pity. He's so pretty." She sighed and leaned forward, letting her cheek rest on the top of Sam's head but managing to still stare at Dean. "I grow tired of this form." 

 

She seemed to phase out of existence for a few moments before solidifying again. Grinning now with full abandon, the thing took on Dean's form. "I'm deep in your head, baby. How about I show you everything you want to see? Make all your deep dark fantasies come true." 

 

Dean's voice caught in his throat as he tried to speak. "N-no." 

 

 

His mirror image cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking as it dropped kisses along Sam's cheek and down onto his neck. "No? You've imagined it plenty of times." It turned Sam around in his chair, running a finger down the side of Sam's cheek. "I know everything about you, Dean... the wanting, the self-loathing, the sick twisted desire. Maybe this isn't the best way then. Shall I play him for you?" The thing phased into Sam and stalked towards the bed. "Little Sammy's lips stretched tight around your cock. Tongue hitting all the right places while you thrust into that sweet hot mouth." 

 

Dean turned his head away, forcing his eyes closed. "Fuck you." 

 

"You could do that, too," It answered. 

 

Dean felt the bed shift beneath him as the thing in Sam's body crowded up against him. "You want me on my front or back? Or maybe you want me to ride you? Watch me lift myself up and sink back down, one hand behind me for balance the other one jacking my dick until I come screaming your name? Dean?" 

 

Dean shook his head, forcing his eyes to stay closed. 

 

"Dean." 

 

He wouldn't give in, wouldn't let that... abomination sully this any further than It already had. 

 

"Dean!" 

 

The slap to his face had him gasping and opening his eyes anyway. Sam was leaning over him with a concerned expression on his face, eyes only slightly obscured from his long bangs. "Were you dreaming?" 

 

Dean licked at his lips, throat dry and clicking before he get the words out. "Sam? That you, man?" 

 

"Yeah, Dean." His younger brother's hand came out to rest on his shoulder for a moment. "What was that all about?" 

 

"Nothing," Dean cleared his throat again, using his hands to push himself into a sitting position. "Was nothing." 

 

"Didn't sound like nothing," Sam answered, taking a seat and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "I know you're not feeling well but the sounds you were making... it was like you were dying, Dean." Sam's eyes glanced into Dean's for a moment before sliding away. "Doesn't help that you look like death warmed over." 

 

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Dean forced himself to smile. "Told you before, little brother, I'm not going anywhere." 

 

Sam's smile was tentative at best, eyes tearing up. "Dean..." 

 

"Oh god, please... don't, Sammy. I'm going to be fine." His voice tried hard to grab at the gruff emotion he usually used against 

 

Sam when he started going all emo on him. "I'm already not feeling well and the last thing I want is having you cry all over me." 

Sam bit at his lip, nostrils flaring for an instant as he tried to get himself under control. It didn't work well. A tear escaped and started down his face making Dean feel like a complete and total idiot. "Sam, c'mon, man. I'm right here." He reached out and grabbed at Sam's shoulders, giving him a little shake. It happened pretty quickly then, Sam just suddenly leaning into him and wrapping those ginormous arms around him. Dean just groaned and rolled his eyes but let his own arms wrap tightly around his brother. Damn the need for this touchy feely bullshit but if that's what Sam needed to get him back on the same page as Dean at the moment, he'd go with it for a few seconds. 

 

It wasn't until he felt Sam's lips move against the skin of his neck that he realized things were spinning very suddenly out of his control. 

 

He meant to push Sam away, his eyes scanning the room for any trace of the thing that had been taunting him just moments before in his dream. Like hell if he was going to give It any more ammunition to play with. He didn't mean to pull Sam tighter to him, to bend his head just a bit more to the left so Sam could lick a hot stripe of wet electricity from his throat to his chin. 

 

Those breathy noises and soft gasps were NOT coming from his mouth. He didn't give in this easily. So when Sam's mouth settled over his, tongue licking its way past his parted lips to touch his, he realized that reciprocating might be a good idea in case his brother decided to stop. 

 

Sam's mouth slid away before he had a chance, moving to breathe hot puffs of air against his ear. "I don't know what I'm doing." 

 

Dean squeezed at Sam's shoulders. "S'okay. Doing just fine." 

 

"Am I?" Sam chuckled but it fell flat in Dean's mind. 

 

Wrenching himself backwards, Dean struck his head on the headboard. As he opened his eyes this time, the sound of dark laughter seemed to float around his brain. Sam was still sitting at the keyboard, regarding Dean with a wary eye. 

 

"Dude, you trying to give yourself a concussion?" 

 

With an anguished groan, Dean pushed himself up on the bed. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, gaze darting around the room before resting on Sam again. "Son of a fucking bitch!" 

 

Sam's eyes went wide and he sat back a bit in his chair. "What gives?" 

 

Dean just shook his head, dropping his feet to the floor and standing up. "It got into my dream." 

 

He started towards the bathroom but Sam was up quicker, effectively blocking Dean's path. "What did It do?" 

 

"Said a bunch of stupid shit about how It was going to make me go crazy and enjoy it." Dean started to sidestep Sam but only ended up dancing with him instead. "Sam, I need to use the bathroom. Unless you want to stand here and talk this thing to death while I piss on the carpet." 

 

"Did It say anything else?" 

 

Dean felt his stomach drop. "No." 

 

"You're sure?" 

 

Dean groaned and ran a hand over his face. "I was there, Sam, of course I'm sure." 

 

"Wouldn't be hiding anything from me because that worked out so well last time." 

 

Dean flinched at that, remembering exactly how pissed Sammy had been when he hadn't told him about the true last words of their dad. 

 

"Dean..." 

 

"Nothing that matters with trying to figure this thing out, alright?" Dean shoved his way past his brother and into the bathroom. 

 

"Get to looking, would ya? This is seriously starting to grate my nerves." 

 

***** 

 

Back to present... 

 

He had to stay away for as long as he could, just keep himself completely away from his brother and the distractions that the damn demon kept putting in his head. Sam would find the answer and then he'd be rid of it. He was tired, wanting nothing more than to sleep since his body was still weak from the fight. He figured that the magic dust had to do with that, too. Along with binding that damn demon to him. 

 

The air was cold against his skin but he didn't care so much. His teeth were chattering and his lips were numb from the wind and snow. If he could just get a few minutes of decent sleep he'd feel so much better. He tucked his head down and walked faster, forced his legs to keep moving. 

 

"Ah, Dean... torturing yourself is making my job useless, sugar." 

 

Dean didn't even flinch at the sound of the voice, the girl's voice from the first time he'd laid eyes on the demon. He gritted his teeth and kept moving, his hands clenching into fists as he trudged through the snow making another lap around the motel again. 

 

"What fun would it be if you froze to death and I didn't get to use any more of my fantastic ideas on you?" 

 

The metallic taste of copper flooded Dean's mouth and he grimaced on it, but refused to speak. He'd finish biting his tongue off first if it would help. 

 

"You can't run from me, Dean." 

 

Not running, bitch. Never running from you, he thought to himself. 

 

"Nothing to say to me? You at a loss for words?" 

 

Dean felt a tug of satisfaction. He started humming 'Fade to Black' under his breath. 

 

She was suddenly standing there in front of him, hair a deep vivid red and eyes like green fire. Her lips were pursed and her hands reached out to press against his chest. She was seriously pissed. Dean gave an internal mental shout. So she didn't like being ignored. 

 

"Dean!" 

 

Sam's voice brought him back to the present and he turned, finding his brother standing huddled in the door to their motel room arms tucked tight around him. He turned away from the demon and started back, wanting to laugh at the sudden stomping and grumbling behind him. It was like a five year old's temper tantrum. 

 

"Did you find something?" Dean asked, stomping the snow off his boots as he crossed into the motel room. 

 

"Possibly," Sam answered, shutting the door behind his brother. He nodded to the computer screen. "It's kind of vague but we've got nothing else to go with right now." 

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders a bit, trying to warm himself up from the cold that had seeped its way into his bones. He watched as Sam pulled out his duffel bag, laying out several items on one of the beds. Dean huffed a bit until Sam looked up at him. 

"Well? You wanna tell me what's going on or are you going to just lead me through this blind?" 

 

Sam scrunched up his face. "What? Oh! Sorry, just trying to make sure that I have everything that I need." 

 

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam was completely in geek mode. He started across the room and found himself staring at the demon standing directly behind Sam's shoulder. Sam glanced up at him and frowned. "It's here, isn't it?" 

 

"That obvious?" Dean asked, his voice dark and deadly as he stared at the thing. "You can't feel anything at all? Can't tell that it's here?" 

 

Sam shook his head. "No, nothing on this end for me." 

 

Dean simply nodded his head, forcing his gaze to stay on Sam and not on the thing behind him. He didn't need the distraction, didn't need the taunting. His brother's eyes stared back into his and instead of triggering a sexual reaction from him it merely calmed him, reassured him that Sam was there to help him through this. 

 

Sam lifted a piece of quartz up off the bed and handed it to Dean, laying it in the palm of his hand. "I need you to focus on this, okay? No matter what happens you keep focusing on that crystal." 

 

Dean gave Sam a skeptical look but held his tongue. He couldn't quite make out the language Sam was speaking in, knew it wasn't Latin. It was filled with a heavy staccato rhythm. He forced his attention on the crystal, staring into it even as the demon's voice seemed to slither around inside his head. 

 

"This is a bad idea, Dean. You know that, deep down. Why won't your brother tell you exactly what it is that's going on with this ritual? He's hiding something from you. This won't hurt me or vanquish me. I'm still right here, inside your head." 

 

Dean forced himself to breathe, to just let the words wash over him, deflected. He concentrated solely on Sam's steady voice. It was relaxing and he felt himself drift a bit so when the crystal started to glow in his hands he found himself mentally shrugging it off, letting himself stay in the trance-like state he was in. 

 

He wasn't exactly sure how long it lasted but when he looked up, Sam sat staring down at the comforter, his own crystal clutched tightly in his hand. 

 

"Sam? Is it over?" 

 

Head lifting, Sam's eyes were shadowed... filled with a pain Dean hadn't seen in a long time. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

 

Dean blinked, frowned at his brother. "Tell you about what?" The tension in Sam's form suddenly had him backpedaling. "What the hell did you do, Sam?" 

 

Sam shook his head and stood up, walking over to drop into the chair at the small table where his laptop sat. "I knew you weren't telling me everything. So I had to make sure I got all the answers I needed to work through this curse." 

 

Dean looked at the piece of quartz in his hand and then to the piece Sam had dropped onto the bed when he'd stood up. Not a ritual to vanish the demon. Sam had... 

 

"Scrying! Damn it, Sam! You lied to me." 

 

"I didn't," Sam said, voice rising. "The crystals are still needed for the ritual but I needed to see, to know what it'd been saying to you so I could figure it all out!" 

 

Dean stood up, fists clenching and unclenching. "And now you've found out you have a pervert for a brother! There are reasons people keep secrets, Sam!" 

 

Sam stood up, walking to stand right in front of his brother. "You really wanna go there about secrets, Dean? Mine killed Jessica. The one you kept for Dad was killing you! We swore there'd be no more secrets!" 

 

Pushing his way past his brother was a bad idea. Pissed off Sam was never one to be taken lightly, so when Dean ended up face first against the wall he instantly regretted his decision. "Let me go, Sammy." 

 

"No. You're going to stay here. You're not taking off on me." 

 

Dean snorted. "No, that's always been your thing, Sam. You leave. I get stuck having to pick up all the pieces." 

 

The arm across Dean's back lessened its grip but Dean found he couldn't move from where he was pressed against the wall. All the rage was slowly draining away, leaving him open and vulnerable. He hated it. He lifted a bit, pressing his forehead into the ugly paisley wallpaper. Stupid of him to say that kind of thing to Sam. 

 

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Sam's voice was a whisper, the air the words were riding on brushing across the back of Dean's neck. 

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "It was easy for you to walk away. It wasn't for me. I couldn't just take off." 

 

"Why not, Dean? If you'd wanted something better you could have done whatever you wanted with your life. You'd have found a way." 

 

"No, because first priority was you, Sam. It was always and will always be you and keeping you safe. You wouldn't have lasted five minutes alone with Dad with me not there to intervene. And leaving Dad behind wasn't an option. He'd lost enough... mom, a home, a job, the normal stable life you so had to have." 

 

Dean didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he opened them up, catching Sam leaning against the wall next to him, eyes downcast and staring at nothing. "I don't blame you for walking away." 

 

"Then why throw it in my face?" Sam's voice was soft, choked off. 

 

"Because sometimes you push so hard at me and the only way I know to get you to back off is to hurt you with that. I was angry at you... but I was proud, too." 

 

Sam nodded his head, biting at his lip. "Tell me about the demon." 

 

"You saw It." 

 

Blowing out an uneasy breath, Sam tried again. "I saw what was in your head. I want to know exactly what's going on. I want to know..." 

 

"You want the impossible." 

 

"I want my brother back." Sam countered, instantly wincing when Dean turned a jaundiced eye to him. 

 

"And that's why you don't wanna know or see anything else that's been going on in my head. Once it's out there, Sam, I can't take it back. This will change everything." 

 

Sam's hand reached out and settled on the base of Dean's neck. "It doesn't have to." 

 

Dean straightened up at the touch, turning his head fully to the side to look at Sam. He never got a chance to respond to the remark before Sam's mouth was pressed to his. 

 

It shook him, had him fumbling for something to hold onto as his whole world suddenly did a complete three sixty on its axis. His hands found Sam, damning and saving him all at once. The tight grip on Sam's hoodie was meant to help force him away but instead kept Sam from pulling away. The way he stabbed his tongue into his brother's mouth was meant to scare him, not cause Sam to moan and erase all distance between them. 

 

Here, at this moment, was everything that Dean had always wanted, dreamed. This was it. So when he shoved Sam back far enough to breathe he cursed his own resolve at telling his brother no in a slightly pained voice. 

 

Sam was on him again in an instant, not letting Dean think it through. "Not allowed to tell me no, Dean." He bit at Dean's bottom lip until his brother parted soft lips to let him back in. Sam's hands were moving all over Dean, forcing his brother to give in for once. Dean's struggles against him slowly started to wane and he grinned into the next kiss. He nibbled along Dean's jaw, breathing hot air into his brother's ear. “Gonna break the curse, Dean. Need you to stay focused with me here.” 

 

Dean's hands came skating along Sam's sides, lifting the hoodie and tee-shirt underneath it up. “Trust me, Sammy. I'm focused here.” He thrust his hips forward a bit, rocking his erection into Sam. “Not really wanting to be, but I am.” 

 

Sam reached down to where Dean's hands were bunching his shirts up. He grabbed them, pulling them up and over his head. 

 

“For once in your stubborn life let me help you.” 

 

“Do I get a choice in this?” Dean asked, finding his throat dry and his head spinning at the expanse of skin being exposed to his view. It was one thing to see it and know that he couldn't touch it. Getting full permission now, to touch and taste without the fear of having his brother run away in fear… Dean found himself being forced farther back against the wall. 

 

“You never had a choice, Dean. I only let you think you did.” 

 

Dean groaned, letting his head rest back against the wall as Sam bit his away along Dean's jaw. His hands were already pushing Dean's shirt up, fingers drawing lines of fire along his skin and the nerves underneath of it. He tried hard to keep himself from falling too far into it. The demon was standing off in the far corner of the room, a deep frown etched into her too pale face. Dean stiffened, his hands automatically halting Sam from pulling the shirt off over his head. “Believe me when I say I enjoy kinky shit, Sam, but having that bitch watch us is not my fun idea of kinky.” 

 

Sam touched his forehead to Dean's, keeping his voice low and his hands still moving as he unsnapped and unzipped his brother's jeans. “This is what she threatened you with, the exact thing? Tempted you with fucking me?” 

 

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah.” 

 

“Then this is how we break it. We take her method of torture and turn it into one of pleasure. Mix in a few more key elements and we'll break it. I promise you. You just have to trust me on this one.” He pulled back and stared Dean in the eye, face serious in the midst of everything. “You need to trust me, Dean.” 

 

“Not much choice, like you said before.” Dean breathed out slowly, trying to calm his nerves a bit. When Sam's stare remained the same, he leaned forward and captured Sammy's lips, biting at the pout before sucking. He pulled back, a string of saliva stretching between them for a moment before breaking. “Only one I ever trusted, Sam. You should know that by now.” 

 

“Good,” came Sam's short reply before his hands slipped inside Dean's jeans, touching the hard and heated flesh he found there. He smirked at his older brother when Dean's hips jerked forward of their own volition. He knew Dean still had reservations about this, could remember now the looks he'd gotten from Dean when he was younger. There had been times Sam was sure Dean could've burned a hole right through him with the heat of his gaze. Then Sam would catch him watching and Dean would find a way to get away from him. When Dean returned, he was always distant and edgy, not wanting to be talked to or messed with at all. Dean's constant want and then lack of affection had been disconcerting at the best of times. Sam had always chalked it up to letting Dean do it when he wanted to because he might not get it all otherwise. 

 

Now he understood the reasons behind it. Dean had been trying to protect Sam from himself, those strange feelings that should never take place between normal families. Sam cursed the day he'd ever learned the word normal. 

 

Sam started to pull Dean with him, walking backwards to the bed to get more comfortable. His legs had just hit the edge of the bed when he felt it, a cold pocket of air that seemed to flow across his sides. Dean's eyes went wide for a moment and he turned to look at a spot next to them. Sam growled, reaching out to forcefully turn Dean's head away and back to him. “Don't you listen to It. You hear me, Dean?” 

 

Dean gulped, trying hard to force the words out of his head. “You're so much dirtier than I ever thought, Dean Winchester. You're really gonna sodomize your baby brother? The one you swore to look after and protect? What would dear daddy think, huh? Sick, twisted, perverted…” 

 

Dean swore under his breath and started to pull away but Sam's arms only came to encircle him, holding him almost to the point of being painful. “Sam…” Dean's voice broke on his brother's name. 

 

“Don't listen. It knows we're trying to break the curse, Dean.” Sam pulled, tumbling both of them back onto the bed behind him. 

 

They ended up on their sides, Dean's breathing was erratic and his eyes were screwed tightly shut. “Dean, please.” 

“I can't, Sam. Just… just stop.” 

 

Moving over his brother, Sam took Dean's face in his hands. “Look at me.” When Dean merely kept lying there, Sam gave him a shake. “Open your fucking eyes, Dean!” 

 

Complying was the hardest thing Dean thought he'd ever had to do. Sam's face stared down at him, pissed off and concerned all at the same time. “I know this isn't easy…” 

 

“You have no idea,” was Dean's immediate answer. “You don't understand what the hell that thing has shown me, what it's said, hell…even who it's turned into.” 

 

Sam nodded his head. “Because to break the curse you have to work through your worst fear.” 

“I'm hardly afraid of you,” Dean fired back. “I know just about everything there is to know about you.” 

 

“I don't think that's your worst fear.” Sam moved then, sliding off to the side and sitting cross-legged on the bed. He waited until 

 

Dean got himself situated, mirroring the same position. “You need to be truthful or this won't work.” 

 

“I thought all we needed to do was fuck?” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I think your fear is deeper than coming out to me.” 

 

Dean couldn't help but laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It's pretty damn close. There's a big difference to admitting to someone that you're bi then admitting you've got the hots for your sexy younger brother who you practically raised.” Dean shook his head and stared at a spot in the room, his face twisting up before he ducked his head down and away. 

 

“Dean?” 

 

He never raised his head but his cheeks were flushed pink, his hands folded tight in his lap. “Dad. It looks like dad right now.” 

 

“Oh,” came the soft reply from Sam. “I can see how that could be a problem.” 

 

“That's not even the start of what the problem is,” Dean sighed. “It's one thing to know you're a freak, Sam. I embrace the fact that I'm different, never really let it bother me before.” 

 

Nodding his head, Sam gave a soft smile, trying to encourage his brother to continue. “The whole ‘who gives a fuck’ attitude that you're famous for.” 

 

“It's a little bit different to hold that attitude when you've got someone… something…telling you all the things you've told yourself in the past.” 

 

“You're going to need to elaborate a bit more on that, Dean. Truth.” 

 

“Shall set you free,” finished Dean, shaking his head and finally looking up. “Or send you screaming for the door. I'm sick, Sam. I'm a pervert. I'm twisted and fucked up beyond all belief because I've been in love with my baby brother since the time he was fourteen. It knows every single fantasy I've ever had about you. It sits there and tells me about them, making itself look like you while touching me all over. Or it gets into my dreams and I can see it all play out.” 

 

Sam leaned forward, reaching a hand out to take a hold of Dean's, dropping another piece of quartz into the palm of his brother's hand discreetly. “How does it play out, Dean?” 

 

Dean's fingers closed angrily around the crystal, his voice rising louder. “What does it matter, Sam!? You wanna know about how I've bent you over every damn surface we've ever laid eyes on? How half the guys I've fucked have looked like you?” 

Sam sat there stoically, the only sign of distress was his change of breathing. “Do you see me running away, Dean?” 

 

“You will. Might not be now or anytime soon but you will,” Dean's voice got soft again, eyes still resolutely avoiding Sam's. “One day, long after we've fucked, it'll finally get to you and I'll wake up and you'll be gone.” 

 

“I'm not going to leave you, Dean.” Sam shifted forward so that his knees were touching Dean's. “I wouldn't do that.” 

 

This time when Dean looked up, there was a sorrow and a slow burning anger there that had Sam unconsciously leaning back. 

“You did once. Why should you act any differently?” 

 

“That was different. That was school and dad's vice grip on me that made me feel like I was drowning.” 

 

Dean laughed, a scary sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. “You never even asked me if I wanted to come with you.” 

 

Sam sat in awestruck silence. “You wouldn't have.” 

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders, fingers turning the quartz over in his hand, flipping it between his fingers. “You so sure about that?” 

 

“Dean, I know you. You would never abandon dad to follow me out to Stanford….would you?” Sam's heart was beating triple time as he watched Dean shift restlessly in front of him. “Really, would you have come if I asked you to?” 

 

Dean's gaze was firmly fixed on a spot of empty air, a scowl present on his face. Sam reached out and grasped Dean by the chin, forcing him to look away. “Would you have come with me, Dean?” 

 

“I probably wouldn't have…but an option to choose would have been peachy,” was Dean's curt reply, the anger and hurt making their way out easily enough. 

 

Shaking his head, Sam leaned forward then, reaching out to take a hold of Dean's face with both of his hands. “I swear, I'm not leaving you behind again, you hear me? I swear it on my life.” 

 

Dean's head reverberated with terrible shrieking and he turned his head to look at his cursed specter. It was shaking, phasing in and out of existence. Dean felt the crystal in his hand heat up and he unconsciously clenched it tighter. Sam took notice that his own crystal was warm, reaching down, he opened Dean's fist and pressed their palms together. The crystals were making a high-pitched hum now as they touched between the brothers' palms. 

 

“You're sick, Dean Winchester!” It screeched, it's form totally going haywire; each flicker showing someone else Dean had met or known in his past. The faces all started to blur together, changing and reshaping in a matter of milliseconds that were too fast for the human eye to catch. “You can't get rid of me! You're mine now!” 

 

“I've got you, Dean. You have to trust me on that,” came Sam's soft voice through the clamor. 

 

Dean glanced over at the thing again, watching as his father's face, Bobby's face, and even his mother's appeared then disappeared until it was nothing more than a blur of a kaleidoscope of colors and features. Dean turned his attention back to his brother. “I trust you.” He leaned forward then, letting his lips slide easily against Sam's, the kiss soft and sweet and sure. It suddenly turned more aggressive with Sam practically climbing into Dean's lap to continue the kiss, their fingers locked tight to each other’s around the quartz crystals. 

 

There was another loud shriek and then a wind that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. Dean tried to pull back but Sam's free arm was around his neck now, holding him tight. Lost in the taste of his brother, Dean barely registered the sudden maelstrom all around him. Every object that wasn't tied down was spinning in a small cyclone around the room. Then just as suddenly as it started, it ended. Both he and Sam jumped as things crashed to the floor. Dean yanked his head back and the burning in his hand caused him to let go of Sam's. The quartz, one single large piece of quartz, fell to the bed. The two pieces had fused together and were now a dark black-blue in color. 

 

“What the fuck was that!?” Dean reached down to push at the lump of quartz and had his hand summarily pushed away. Just as his hand had hovered over it, faces had shown up in each of the faceted surfaces. 

 

“It's done,” Sam said, hand slipping under his shirt to form a makeshift glove, he scooped it up and went over to the side table. There was a small black cloth bag there with several charms hanging off of it. He dropped it inside and then cinched the top tightly closed with a series of knots. He turned to look at Dean, who was still mostly shell shocked from the last few minutes. 

 

“It's trapped in the crystal now. We'll have to take it to Bobby, get him to lock it up in one of the sanctified redwood boxes. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner, which means your worst fear didn't have anything to do with me finding out that you…uhm…wanted me.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes in typical brotherly fashion. “So if not that big bad secret, what one?” 

 

“Well, what did you say right before the mini-twister hit this room?” Sam joked, dropping back down onto the bed. When Dean only gave him a blank look, Sam sighed dramatically. “Being left behind…being alone.” 

 

“I'm not afraid of being alone!” Dean countered, a scowl passing over his face. 

 

Sam raised and eyebrow and grinned wider. “Sure thing, Dean. Whatever you say.” 

 

“What? I'm not!” Sam only stared at him and finally Dean relented a bit, albeit he had to look away and his voice got quieter. 

 

“Just afraid of losing you.” 

 

“Uh-huh.” 

 

“Bitch.” 

 

“Look who's talking, jerk.” 

 

Running a hand over his face, Dean glanced at the bag. “So, we give it to Bobby, he locks it away in one of the hocus pocus boxes.” 

 

“There's a ritual to totally destroy it but we don't have the right tools to do that here,” Sam stood up and moved towards his computer. “I can show you the ritual if you want to see it. I'm sure Bobby will have just about everything we need…” 

 

“Sam…” 

 

“It's not ascomplicated as you'd think. It's just a lot of specific herbs and a few artifacts that…” 

 

“Sam…” 

 

'I mean, really how…” 

 

“Sam!” 

 

When Sam spun around, Dean was right there, lunging in to kiss him. All sense of time was suddenly lost and Sam couldn't remember what it was they were talking about in the first place. All he knew was that this felt so right and he wondered how he'd managed to live his whole life without it. Dean would no doubt downplay the awkwardness of the whole situation for years to come, make it out to be anything but what it really was. His worst seeded fear was losing Sam and Sam had never felt worse about not realizing sooner. But at this moment, with the two of them pressed tightly together, all his worries went out the window. There was only here and now. And that was all that mattered. 

 

The rest could wait.


End file.
